


"The music."

by randomscientist



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomscientist/pseuds/randomscientist
Summary: "Oh, have you had sex?" "Why do you ask?" "The music."Sherlock’s violin music speaks his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay sorry this is more of a meta, posted on Tumblr ([@randombiochemist](https://randombiochemist.tumblr.com/)), thought I'd keep a copy here..

His sister heard it from the music, of course she did. She’s a _Holmes_ , with her vast intelligence and sharp perception. And despite what fateful series of events had been shaping the thorny paths they both trod, a unique sibling connection unwaveringly prevails.

He was playing  _himself_  on the Stradivarius, after all. Whilst his always ( _almost_ always, but the ‘positionofthecar’ incoherence was merely a single occasion!) well-guarded words articulate reason and logic for his controlled cerebral mind, his music would subtly nudge open the lock to a different window. His music would take the liberty of expressing The Ungraspable, felt and constrained within his chest.

And he would allow that. He’d composed Irene’s song when he thought he’d lost her, when suddenly there was an unbearable void that was never filled to begin with. He’d poured all the melancholy and devastation and befuddlement and _ache_ into the tunes. Plus the whirlpool of everything he hadn’t realised he’d felt for The Woman, everything that he’d never wanted to feel and even actively steered away from experiencing.

 _A lot_  (understatement) has happened since then. In London (Battersea, Baker Street, and Heathrow), in Karachi, in all the places where they’ve misbehaved during and after The Fall. Somewhere in between her resurrection and his, despair was shone through by hope, anger dissolved in understanding, denial abraded with acceptance, and suspicion evolved into trust.

But however much things have changed, there is a  **constant** that remains. Something that had been brewing since before the music was created, since Belgravia or perhaps even Buckingham Palace. It has crystallised from the disorder of emotions, and strengthened with each encounter and separation between him and The Woman, with each minute they have spent together and apart. It marked the beginning of a profound realisation, and diffused into the fundamental definition of who he was. Sherlock Holmes, the heartless machine, no longer, if ever.

It is this constant that the Stradivarius bow was dancing to revisit in Sherrinford, conveying the depth of the sentiment with precise movements, with fervour and intensity. He played Irene’s song in the light of everything that had transpired since the intricate melody first resonated on his violin strings and filled the flat at 221B all those years ago.

Whereas the music was previously simply referred to as “sad” by John, it has come to encompass much, much more. Whereas the audible _yearning_ in the quivering notes had been for an incomprehensible concept, it is now attached to fond memories. Of _her_ , of _them_ , of experiences both physical and beyond. His sister heard all that.

Sherlock considers what his brother’s reaction to the tunes might be, and manages to keep his expression neutral.


End file.
